


A Toast to Cake

by Vita_Orlando



Series: Everything on the Ice [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Crushing Yurio, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Sex
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2017-04-10
Packaged: 2018-09-11 12:41:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8980156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vita_Orlando/pseuds/Vita_Orlando
Summary: Picking up right after the GPF. In which Victor needs a time turner, Phichit is still ship captain, Chris angles for a banquet repeat, Yuuri is embarassed, Georgi is a lovely man, and Yurio doesn't understand these feelings, but he sure is pissed.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Gratuitous fluff because I couldn't resist.

Victor sighed and studied his computer screen more closely. He’d made a table with competition and flight times, but no matter how he finagled the schedule, he couldn’t skate in Russia’s nationals and be with Yuuri for Japanese nationals. Maybe he should delay his return until the official start of next season. These conflicts would still come up, but he’d have longer to work out a plan, not to mention more than a few days to come up with two programs for himself.

The door opened, and he looked up as Yuuri bustled in, followed closely by Phichit. “I got official permission from the committee for the expo.” Yuuri said, “After a long lecture about how ‘highly irregular’ it all is.” He beamed.

“That’s great!” Victor said, “I thought it would be okay.”

“Because you always get away with everything. It’s not really like that for other people, you know.”

“Are you going to tell me what you’re planning now?” Phichit whined, practically vibrating with excitement.

“Ah, sure we’re going to-“ He stopped at Yuuri’s stern look.

“Come on, Yuuri.” Phichit pleaded. “I promise I won’t tell.”

“You have no restraint in your online posting, Phichit.”

“I’ll be circumspect!”

Yuuri sighed.

“Are you two going to pairs skate? Please tell me you are!”

“Bingo!” Victor said happily.

“Ah! I can’t wait to see it!” Phichit said.

“Hey, Phichit,” Yuuri was looking over Victor’s shoulder intently. “It looks like I was right. You’re okay with what we discussed earlier, right?”

“Of course!”

"Victor,” Yuuri said calmly, “There’s no way you can do both. Go back to Russia with Yakov and prepare for your comeback. Phichit and Minako will support me at nationals. I’ll be fine.”

Victor weighed Yuuri’s words. He sounded confident, much more so than he had in Moscow. Really, last year’s implosion notwithstanding, Yuuri didn’t have a ton of competition at the national level. He’d placed With the exception of last year, he’d taken gold in Nationals every year since he’d entered the senior division, he was currently in better shape than ever. The plan was a reasonable one. “Okay.” Victor said finally. “I hate that I won’t be with you. Again.”

“I’m more sad that I won’t get to be there to see you compete again.”

Victor laughed then. “You’ll see plenty when I kick your ass at Worlds.”

“Oh really?” There was an edge in Yuuri’s voice, a hint of threat that Victor liked on all kinds of levels. “I’m not letting you take your record back so easily, Vicchan.”

“Even so, 320?" Victor decided he could afford to be generous. "Once you start scoring closer to 330 regularly, I’ll worry. I’m looking forward to it!” He really was. Now that Yuuri had proven he could handle four quads, he’d be able to design a truly killer program for him next year. Maybe they could share a theme, tell a bigger story together than either one of them could alone, even competing individually. Hell, he’d love to choreograph some kind of big ice show when he had the time. Which would be . . . definitely not until the end of next season, at the soonest. He sighed. It wasn’t something to complain about after last year, but too much inspiration was frustrating in its own way.

“Yuuri!” Phichit’s smile was absolutely charming as he hugged Yuuri tight around the shoulders. “I’m so glad you aren’t going to retire yet!”

Victor shook his head at Yuuri’s amazement. He’d been utterly shocked at how many of the other skaters, not to mention his fans, were tripping over themselves to tell him how glad they were that he’d continue to compete. Apparently, the fact that people actually wanted him around was still having trouble sinking in. Bizarrely, he seemed most comfortable with Yuri’s snarling abuse. It was almost like by saying all awful things Yuuri thought about himself out loud, Yuri somehow diffused their power.

  
//

  
Phichit cried when he saw Yuuri and Victor skate together. The routine had always been gorgeous, and had been made even more so by how obviously in love its skaters were. When they came off the ice, he hugged them both.

“So you were joking about gold medals, right?” Phichit asked, “When’s the wedding?”

“Who’s joking?” Victor asked, deadpan. “Now he needs to make it to five-time world champion.”

Yuuri just rolled his eyes “You say that like you’re a prize I haven’t already won, official wedding or not.” He grabbed Victor’s hips and pulled their bodies together sharply.

“You’re right!” Victor beamed and melted against Yuuri. Always ready for a photo op, Phichit snapped a quick shot of them on his phone, decorated it with hearts and kissy faces and uploaded it to Instagram with the caption “true love”.

  
//

  
At the banquet, Yuuri noticed that the wait staff, with their trays of champagne, passed by him with suspicious frequency. He’d just taken his third glass when he noticed Chris whispering to one of the staff and pointing in his direction. Someone wanted a repeat performance of last year, apparently. He hung his head in shame at the memory of those photos. He wished he could say he couldn’t believe he’d do such a thing, but honestly as Phichit had reminded him just this morning, Yuuri did tend to get a bit wild when he drank. Still, it was beyond inappropriate to behave that way at an event.

“I told Chris we’ll have a private party at my place once the season ends.” Victor said, offering Yuuri a glass of water. “You should be safe.”

“I really can’t believe I did that last year.”

“I still can’t believe you forgot.” Victor was pouting. “You swept me off my feet and stole my heart and you don’t even remember.”

Yuuri flushed in embarrassment. “I’m sorry.” Yuuri said desperately for what felt like the thousandth time.

“Well, it all worked out anyway.” Victor’s cheer returned easily, “I forget stuff a lot, so I can’t really be that mad about it.”

Yuuri gave him a wan look and then leaned in to ask the question that had been on his mind ever since he put together the pieces and understood exactly who the playboy in the Eros routine was supposed to be. “Umm . . . Victor, did we . . .”

“Did we what?” Victor asked, too loud, in mock innocence.

“You know what!” Yuuri hissed. “Last year, after the banquet, I seriously don’t remember anything. Did we do anything more than just dance?" He’d been wondering; part of him didn’t really want to know. He treasured the first time he and Victor had slept in the same bed in Hasetsu. It had been when Yuuri got the music for his free program. He hadn’t been able to wait for morning to share it with Victor, when they’d both listened to the song on repeat until they were nodding off, Victor asked Yuuri to stay. He’d lain awake for a long time after that, enjoying the surreal warmth of Victor curled around him. That night stood out more than the other first time, in China, when Victor, drunk out of his mind, had kissed Yuuri and begged him for more. Then there was the other first time three days later, in the gray pre-dawn light the morning after he’d won silver. If their real first time had been some drunken romp he didn’t even remember instead . . .

“Okay, okay.” Victor soothed, seeing how upset Yuuri was getting. “No. You did offer. I told you I’d happily jump into bed with you the second I got the chance if you were sober.”

That was a relief. Yuuri chuckled, “Your behavior makes a lot more sense in that light, you know.”

“What?” Victor grinned, “You mean stripping naked as soon as I got to your house and trying to crawl into bed with you not long after?”

“Um” Yuuri swallowed, “Yeah, that. I was pretty confused.”

“Me too.” Victor admitted. “I cried myself to sleep that night, you know.”

Yuuri was about to chide Victor for being dramatic, but something made him stop. “Really?”

“Really.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Well, that’s the first time I was ever rejected, so it was just a little shocking,” He said lightly. “If you sleep with me whenever you can for the rest of my life, I might forgive you.”

“I’ll think about it.” Yuuri said, but he brushed the gold ring on his hand reverently and smiled. “I do think I’d like to make this a tradition, though.” He extended his hand to Victor gallantly, “Dance with me?”

  
//

  
“Do you know what you told me when I took you back to your room last year?” Victor purred against Yuuri’s ear.

“What’s that?”

“You said ‘I’ve had years to plan all the things I want to do to you. I wonder how much you can handle in one night.’” Victor had drawn up the memory of those words, of the gravel and promise in Yuuri’s voice, too many times to count. It never failed to drive him half mad with lust. His tears when confronted with Yuuri’s cold, panicked refusal had been as much pure physical frustration as anything else.

Yuuri’s cheeks were deliciously pink. Victor brushed the back of his knuckles gently against the warm, soft skin of Yuuri’s face. “And then you told me your idea of eros was katsudon!” He giggled as Yuuri turned away to thump his forehead against the wall of their hotel room.

“You’ve been very patient with me.” Yuuri muttered, voice muffled by the drywall.

“Hmm” Victor tapped his finger to his lips in thought. “How can you ever repay me?”  
When Yuuri cast an shy glance over his shoulder at him, Victor grinned and stepped into his space running a hand roughly against his groin. “I know!” Victor said, “You can make good on that now, right? I really deserve a Nice. Big. Fat. Reward. For all my trouble, don’t you think?” His tone was playful, but he punctuated his words by firmly rubbing Yuuri’s crotch through his clothes.

The glint in Yuuri’s eye told Victor he’d played his cards right. Eros-mode Yuuri was somehow more difficult to awaken in the bedroom than on the ice, but he’d managed it tonight. He gasped in surprised delight when Yuuri spun around and grabbed a fistful of Victor’s hair in one hand and pressed down on his shoulder with the other. Victor resisted for the briefest moment, gauging Yuuri’s strength, making him exert real force just to feel the thrill of it, before letting Yuuri push him to his knees.

“I’ve got your reward right here,” Yuuri said, eyes burning with wicked light.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I got kinda hung up on the smut between the last chapter and this one, so I'll leave it as a fade to black for now. Nationals are over and Yuuri is moving to Russia.

Back before Victor took his break, Yuri had been almost resigned to coming in second. He would definitely surpass Victor soon, but for his first senior season he'd half expected to fight for silver like everyone else when Victor was on the ice. Then came Nationals, with Victor skating routines he’d somehow pulled out of his ass just days before. Yuri honestly thought he had a chance.

He'd broken Victor’s record, for god’s sake.  
Yuri had scored 319.02. But Victor, true to form, managed a cool 330.57 without looking as though it troubled him at all to do so, and all the commentators could talk about was how fresh and energetic Victor seemed compared to last year.

It pissed Yuri off. Victor had even taken a cue from Katsudon and put the harder quads in the second half of his program. When Yuri gawked at that, Victor had just winked at him and said, “Yuuri’s been working me really hard getting me to teach him jumps.” Then he giggled and grinned with irritating charm and winked as he added “I guess I’m benefitting from the famous Katsuki stamina in more ways than one.”

Yuri had turned away then, but not in time to miss the faint but still visible bruising on Victor’s pale skin when he shed his costume. The first time he’d seen that after practice back in St. Petersburg, Yuri had nearly taken the locker room door off its hinges in rage. “Ugh! Were you smiling and sighing the whole way back from Barcelona because of this crap? Disgusting.”

Victor’s sharp look hinted that he might understand Yuri’s anger a little too well. His smile was tight as he leaned forward and said “My Yuuri,” That was how Victor was differentiating the two of them now. Yuri Plisetsky was “Yurio", or "Yurotchka", or maybe even just "Yuri.” But Katuski was always “My Yuuri” to Victor now. “Can be an intense experience.” He smiled knowingly, “You’re much too young to understand.”

Yuri had stormed out then. He wasn’t sure what Yakov would do if he actually hauled off and punched a teammate in the face, but he probably wouldn’t’ like it. Hell, he might even end up pulled from the rest of the season, rising star of Russia or not.

 _I’m not too young to understand!_ Yuri thought. _I understand perfectly fine_. That was the problem, wasn’t it? He could picture Yuuri’s intense stare, his sensual smirk when he skated eros, and even imaging all that charisma up close, imaging him touching everywhere and hard enough to bruise, too. Not this shit again! Yuri shifted in his seat in his cab, glad he could hunch up under his oversized coat and hide the rather embarrassing problem that had suddenly sprung up. _Stupid Katsudon_ , he thought, as if Yuuri would have any idea about his, uh, response, to Eros, _I’m fifteen. It’s just hormones. Don’t go thinking I like anything about you!_

Yuri grimaced, chucked his silver medal into the corner of his room and flopped down on his bed with a pained groan. He had maybe underestimated just how grueling the senior division would be. He mostly had to worry about Victor and Chris at European Championships. As long as he didn’t screw up, he’d at least gain the podium, probably. Worlds were still months away, though, and his body ached from all the constant practice and what he suspected might be growing pains, which did not bode well at all. It would be so much harder to nail his jumps if the size and weight of his body changed too quickly. It was one of the downsides of going into senior skating young. Victor’s first two seasons had been marred by inconsistent jumps for just that reason.

Even without that, Yuuri and JJ both would have destroyed him in the Grand Prix Final if either one had performed normally in their short program. And Yuuri had landed the quad flip in both of his programs just fine in Japanese nationals. His execution wasn’t as beautiful as Victor’s yet, but in another month it would probably be even better. Yuri was painfully aware that those two and Victor were all more than capable of scoring above 330. Which meant he might not medal at Worlds. Unacceptable. He’d have to work harder, that was all. He wasn’t actually sure it was possible to push himself physically more than he had these past nine months, but damned if he wouldn’t find a way anyway.

  
//

  
Yuuri gave up on trying to get his hair to behave and stood as the row in front of him finally emptied. With the ease of much practice, he shouldered his carry-on and deplaned. He'd felt pretty calm for most of the flight. Traveling alone always relaxed him. Now that he'd actually arrived in St. Petersburg, excitement crushed every other thought. Baggage claim took ages longer than usual and customs was awful as well. He was practically vibrating by the time he cleared the sliding glass doors and rushed out to arrivals. He scanned the crowd for Victor, perplexed when he couldn’t find him. They'd been texting just minutes ago.

Suddenly, a warm hand gripped the back of his neck painfully and he was pulled into a violent hug by Yurio. "Surprise, Piggy!" Yurio yelled right in his ear. "We're you expecting Victor?"

"Uh, yeah, I actually..." Yuuri shook his head and wrapped his arms around Yurio's shoulders. “I think you grew!”

“Don’t sound so smug about it, Katsudon. It doesn’t mean you can beat me at Worlds.” What? Oh. Yeah. Yuuri hadn’t meant that, but he supposed a growth spurt would be pretty inconvenient for Yurio.

Almost immediately, Victor exited the men's room. He broke into a brilliant smile as soon as he saw Yuuri. Yuuri was returning Victor’s wave when a hard shoulder to his chest left him breathless for a moment.

"Get off me!" Yurio spat, sounding entirely disgusted.

"You know," Yuuri said, "I think I missed you, Yurio."

"That's not my name!" And with that Yurio spun on his heel and tromped over to stand beside the exit oozing irritated rage the way only a teenaged boy could.

And then he didn't think about any of that anymore, because Victor’s arms were wrapped tight around him.

  
//

  
Yuri watched, amused as Yuuri turned around and around, looking at Victor’s apartment in amazement. He'd gone ahead and rented a larger unit in the same building he'd been in before. Yuri was pretty sure Victor just didn't want to have to share closet space, clothes horse that he was. He certainly hadn't bothered purchasing a second bed.

"This place is really..." Yuuri trailed of, unable to find the word. Yuri thought the best one might be sterile. Especially compared to Yuuri's warm family home in Hasetsu. After some consideration, Yuuri decided on "modern."

"Yeah, well," Yuri said, voice dripping with disdain, "It's Victor."

Yuuri just pursed his lips in a funny little smile and gave a single, sharp nod. "Do you still live with Lilia, Yurio?"

"Yeah.” He was surprised, and a little happy, that Yuuri remember such an insignificant detail about his life. Yuri had wondered how long Lilia wanted him there, but she hadn’t suggested changing the arrangement. He didn’t really mind, Lilia didn’t hover over him like she thought he was her child or something weird like that, but she was still kind of, maternal in a way that Yuri hadn’t really experienced before. It would be a pain to move all his stuff again, anyway.

"Tonight I'm staying here, though. We are going to have a slumber party."

"Ummm you are?" Yuuri sounded hesitant. The idiot probably thought he was getting laid tonight. Yuri was absurdly glad to throw a wrench into that part of Yuuri and Victor’s stupid reunion, and he wondered if that just made him a horrible person or if it meant something much worse than that was happening to him.

"Yes, and I made you pirozhki, so don't complain."

The evening had passed quietly. Yuuri was obviously tired from the travel. Victor had babbled on about how proud he was of Yuuri's performance at Nationals. Of course he was, Yuri thought. Who wouldn’t be proud? Yuuri had managed his best score, 329.38, even without Victor there. Yuri was proud of him, too. He still wanted to win gold himself at Worlds, but he hoped Yuuri kicked Victor’s ass and took silver. That would show both of them a thing or two.

Then Victor threw himself into a magnificent sulk when Yuuri had said no, he didn't bring him a gold medal to kiss. It turned out Yuuri had just told his mom to do something with it like all the other ones from national competitions. Like it didn’t even matter. He really still thought he was a “dime a dozen Japanese figure skater.”

That pissed Yuri off, too. It was downright insulting that Yuuri had scored higher than Yuri’s best and still thought it was no big deal.

Yuri was pulled out of his thoughts when Yuuri took a quick swig from his beer and then said "I'll give you something even nicer to kiss soon, okay?"

Victor’s utterly besotted expression as he responded with a delighted “Ooh!” was even worse. Yuri made a puking noise and wondered if staying gad been a bad idea. These two were so gross.

"Ugh. I'm pissed off." He griped.

"What else is new?" Yuuri asked with a smirk that made Yuri shiver. There was probably something wrong with him for the way the Katsudon's bitchy side made him feel.

"You get to face JJ at Four Continents. That self-absorbed asshat beat me twice and I can't even say I redeemed myself at the final because the fuck head went and choked. If he'd skated his short program like he usually does, he'd have had us both by almost ten points, even with the issues in his free skate."  
Yuri made a disgusted noise in his throat. "If he does that again I'll kick his ass.”

He was pulled up short by Yuuri's gasp of obvious joy. "Yurio, I love how much you want everyone to do well. You kind of show it in a funny way, though." The idiot sounded so damned touched. It got on Yuri’s nerves.

"Don't put yourself in the same category. That was different. It's way worse with you." Yuri snapped bitterly.

“Whatever you say.” There was that irritating little smile again. And then Yuri’s world went blank for a moment because Yuuri was hugging him. Well crap. At least he felt justified for wearing his best dance belt under his loose jeans. No chance of anyone being the wiser to the effect of his stupid hormones, though why the Katsudon insisted on doing things to set them off . . . well, not like he had any idea. This hug, like the one yesterday was fond, but it certainly wasn’t anything more than friendly affection. Victor got touchy when it meant something to him, or with Yuuri. Yuuri, once he was comfortable, was pretty tactile with everyone.

Yuri wormed away and moved off the couch, laying on the floor opposite the small coffee table “I told you not to hug me, asshole!” he said. “I’m not your friend.”

Yuuri’s eyebrows drew together and his expression turned serious for a moment before he said. “Yeah, you are. I might not be your friend, but you’re mine.”

Well fuck. Yuri spun away as his cheeks heated, only to fend off a disgusting armful of drooling dog. Makka had clearly interpreted him sitting on the ground, moving quickly as an invitation to wrestle.

“Victor!” He hissed, “Get your stinking mutt off me!”

Victor just laughed. “Makka had a bath just this morning, Yurio. He wanted to look his best for when Papa Yuuri moved in.”

"Papa?” Yuri scoffed. “Now I really am going to puke.” He shoved the dog away, though it seemed like a futile effort and resigned himself to a long night.


	3. Chapter 3

Victor poked at his plate of fish and undressed spinach dismally and wondered if he really needed to get back down to prime competition weight. He didn’t gain fat the way Yuuri did, but he certainly hadn’t been adhering to the diet of a top tier athlete during his time off. If he really intended to win, to take back his records, he’d have to keep on track even more than usual to make up for lost time.

Historically, he went into the season with a strong, technical program, practiced until there was no chance his performance would be anything other than flawless, and then adjusted his elements to get him the highest base score in the competition if he needed too. He’d managed to combine steps one and three this season, but his execution was much less consistent than it had been in several years. Sure, he'd seemed not to miss a beat at Nationals, and he'd play that for all it was worth, but he'd more or less been lucky, and he knew it.

He wasn't as focused on winning, either. Which felt . . . odd. Skating and winning had so comprised the entirety of his life until recently that he wasn't completely sure how to wrap his head around competing now that his priorities had shifted. Competitive skating used to be his everything. Now it was just something he was doing for fun, to see how long he could pull off being ' _The_ Victor Nikiforov' and because Yuuri wanted him on the ice.

"If you're already thinking about whether you can ditch your diet," Yakov blustered coming into the break room and taking in his star student's attitude immediately, "I don't even want to talk to you."

"Yakov!" Victor protested, "That's not fair. You raked me over the coals for wanting to coach and now that I'm more focused on my student than myself, you're chewing me out again."

Yakov made a derisive noise, but Victor felt the fondness behind the irritation, "You aren't thinking about your pupil right now. You're thinking you want to eat more of those katsudon pirozhki Yuri keeps bringing in. And another thing," _uh oh_ , Victor thought, _full rant approaching_ , "You cannot do your best as both an athlete and a coach. The fact that you are even trying is exactly the kind of self-indulgent, inconsiderate nonsense that has been typical of you since you came to me as a boy. And how on earth are you going to compete against your own student? Are you really capable of being as ruthless as necessary with both him and yourself?"

Victor sighed. Dammit, Yakov knew him too well, "There's only one way to find out!" He said, his cheer suddenly returning. Yakov's grumbling didn't look like a pep talk from the outside, but it always felt that way to him.

"With anyone but Yuuri, it wouldn't work, but-"

"But he's practically your husband," Yakov cut him off in irritation, "Yeah, so you've been telling everyone. Which is another thing, if you really are that serious about your marriage or" he waved a hand "whatever this is, why are you mixing it up with your professional life at all? If you crash and burn, you will lose _everything_ , Vitya." 

"Yakov, you're like a father to me," Victor said, "I know you're concerned, but I think it will be alright."

"Tch. I'm tempted to supplement your work with Yuuri just to make sure he can hand you your ass in Worlds, idiot." 

"Really?!" Victor felt more excited than he had since Yuuri said he wanted to keep skating. He knew his smile was probably ridiculous. "Do it, please!"

"You are impossible." Yakov groused and left the break room in a huff.

//

"Do you have some time for a coffee?" Yuuri was caught off guard by Georgi's question in the locker room, but he'd asked it so gently, that Yuuri nodded and they left the training arena together. 

Yuuri had actually never felt so immediately comfortable with anyone. From a distance, Georgi seemed intimidating, but his immediate presence radiated a certain gentle sensitivity that put Yuuri at ease. They walked for a while, punctuating long, comfortable silences with conversation about how Yuuri was finding Saint Petersburg and about their rink mates. Georgi led the way to a small, dark coffee shop, it's interior of dark wood and rich, dark brocades, and warm, faux candle light made it feel like something out of a period film.

They were the only two patrons there, but as they sat with their drinks, Georgi leaned forward and asked, very quietly, "What are you going to do about Yura?"

"Do about him?" Yuuri asked, not understanding. 

Georgi sighed and gazed out the window with a sad smile, "That child is more fragile than he seems." 

Yuuri couldn't help but chuckle to hear Yurio called a child, sure he was fifteen, but still, it was Yurio. "I don't think I've ever seen him as a child. He's so fierce."

"I'm sure he'd be glad to hear that." Georgi said. Somehow, Yuuri felt like he was still missing something, Georgi's expression had turned kind of wistful for a moment, but then he changed the topic.

The conversation wandered all over after that, and Yuuri's sense of calm never dissipated. He'd never met someone so easy to be around. They didn't have a lot in common, but that didn't seem to matter. Yuuri was apt to spend his free time practicing or gaming, whereas Georgi had his nose buried in a book more often than not. After a while, Yuuri couldn't help but ask what he'd been dying to know.

"Hey," He began, "You've trained with Victor the longest. You know what he was like before. Is me being around hurting him?" Yuuri didn't want to give up having Victor as a coach, but he didn't want to hinder Victor's performance, either.

"Hurting him? No." Georgi shook his head emphatically. "He is different now, though, softer. Despite his cheerfulness, 'ice prince' would have been a good way to describe him. Stammi Viccino was a turning point; he finally realized how lonely he was." Georgi sighed, "He never said anything, but I think he really was planning to retire when he had it composed.

"And then last year's final came around and he came back from Sochi looking like he'd seen god."

"You're exaggerating." Yuuri stammered, but he wanted to hear more.

"It might be a bit of a turn for the poetic, but not by much." Georgi admitted, "I knew it was serious when he didn't tell us anything. Usually, when he had infatuations, he'd be bubbling away about them, but he never really mentioned you. It's how I could tell he was serious. Yura filled us all in what had gone down at the final and at the banquet in detail and his derision was matched only by his volume." 

That, at least, Yuuri could picture. 

"Well, I'm glad you're here." Georgi said after a long pause, "Between Victor's silence and then his absence and Yura's ranting you really have been a kind of shadow over the rink for the past year. Now that you're here, it's better, I think. Except maybe for Yura. Be kind to him."

Yuuri once again felt like there was subtext he might be missing, but Georgi didn't seem inclined to elaborate so he just said lamely, "I actually really like Yurio. A lot. He'd probably kick me if he heard me say it though."

"Maybe." Georgi shook his head. After that, they walked back to the rink in companionate silence.

//

Yuri invited himself back to Victor's place after practice. Victor and Yuuri's place, he corrected himself, kicking at the curb on his way up to the building. "Hey, Yurio," Victor called as he shouldered his way past Katsudon at the door. 

"What do I have to do to get you stop calling me that?" He growled. Victor had gotten infinitely more insufferable over the past year, and the trend didn’t seem to be reversing itself. 

"Hmm." Victor looked thoughtful, and then said brightly "Probably nothing you can do." And went back to his book.

"Do you really hate it that much?" Yuuri asked, eyes full of concern. 

"Tch." Yuri snapped "What do you care, Katsudon?"

"Can I call you 'Yuratchka' like Yakov does, then?" Yuuri was apparently completely serious. He flopped on the couch next to Victor and picked up an X-box controller. 

"That's awfully familiar, don't you think?" Yuri snapped.

"Is it?" Yuuri asked, baffled.

"It's a bit like using 'chan' in Japanese" Victor chimed in.

"Then it's perfect." Yuuri said, patting Yuri on the head. "You're so little and cute!"

Yuri didn't bother to respond to that, but he grabbed a second controller from its charger and then made good use of his elbows to shove between Yuuri and Victor on the couch. 

"Ow. Ow. Ow!" Yuuri complained. I left you a spot already."

"I want to sit here." Yuri proclaimed, leaning against Yuuri's side. 

"Ah, thanks, by the way." Yuuri said.  
Yuri did a double take. "What for?"

"For not bringing over katsudon pirozhki. Even though it's so good." Yuuri's voice was tinged with longing.

"Yeah, that's why I kept doing it." Yuri said, "because you look like you're having a goddamned orgasm every time you bite into one, but Yakov chewed me out for acting like a saboteur."

"No need, Yurio, I've got my Yuuri quite well taken care of in that department, Don't I Yuuri?" 

"Ew. Don't make me barf." Yuri said. "Anyway, more is always better, right Katsudon?"

"Oh god. Don't put me in the middle of another weird argument." Yuuri said doubling down his concentration on the game in an effort to ignore both Russians and the blush creeping across his cheeks. Yuri was both frustrated by and grateful for Yuuri's cluelessness. It was actually a little endearing. 

The evening went normally enough for them after that, at least until the Katsudon had, just a little hesitantly, called him Yuratchka and Yuri's world briefly flew to pieces. He gritted his teeth and held the details of the memory carefully. He really wanted to ask Yuuri to say it again, fuck if he knew why. But that would be weird, so he just did his best to keep it safe for later. Apparently, his expression must have been too strained because Yuuri asked timidly, "Is it not okay?"

"It's fine." Yuri snapped, but he was so thrown for a loop that he left soon after.

//

"Did I offend him, do you think?" Yuuri worriedly asked Victor a brief while later. 

"Oh no." Victor said, his expression unreadable, "I don't think you did."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo. . .I'm having a blast, but I'm not really sure where I'm going with this. I've got material for a few more chapters, but I need to decide if this full on Victuurio or more like a Yurio's unrequited crush thing? I'm kind of torn.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I still can't commit, so we'll just keep racheting things up for now.
> 
> The song referenced here is "Sixteen" by No Doubt.
> 
> Apologies in advance for any format issues, I'm posting from my phone with a toddler crawling all over me. I tried fix anything glaring, but not making promises for now.

It was his birthday and Yuri was immediately suspicious when Yakov held him back at practice and told everyone else to break early. He thoroughly expected a call from Victor and Yuuri inviting him over, and he got chewed out mightily for being distracted during practice because he was trying to think of a way to put a wrench in their stupid plans without totally ruining his own night.

But no one called, and Victor kept posting stupid photos of him and Yuuri using their newly found time for a romantic dinner. Probably it was a cover. They'd call. Yakov had him run through his most challenging choreographic sequence until Yuri was sure the movements must be burned into his brain. His feet knew what to do without him really thinking about it, which was good because he was so exhausted he might fall over.

"Your footwork could still be better." Yakov said.

"How do I make it better, then?" Yuri yelled, frustrated. If Yakov could tell him, he do it, whatever it was.

"A whole lot of hours doing figures would be a place to start." Yakov said. He was always trying to get his skaters to work on that boring old man shit. "Foundations" or whatever. Victor was the only one who took him even sort of seriously.

"Seriously?!" Yuri whined, "Do I have to?"

Yakov shrugged. "You don't have to. But you don't have to win, either, I guess."

"Fine! I'll do it." Yuri declared, irritated beyond belief.

"Good." Yakov said. "I want you to watch first, though."

"Watch who? You think you can still do that, old man?"

Yakov smacked Yuri on the back of the head, not hard, though. "If figures were still as big a part of competition as they were in my day, Yuuri Katsuki would be the five time gold medal winner easily."

"What are you talking about? I've never seen him bother much with-"

"You don't see everything, then, do you?" Yakov snapped, "He comes at night, after the rink has emptied out. Victor has all hours access, as do I. Not every night, but a lot of them, he's here doing nothing but figures for hours at a time."

"I guess that pig would do boring shit like that." Yuri muttered.

"Yes." Yakov said, "And in my judgement, he's the best in the world at footwork by a wide margin." Yuri didn't say anything to that. He knew it was true, had thought so himself any number of times. "So learn something from him."

"Tomorrow evening. Yuuri Katsuki has agreed to come and skate figures for us. We'll observe his technique together and then set you practicing the simpler ones."

Yuri showered and changed, irritated beyond belief that he had to model any part of himself after that incompetent pig. But he'd take any help he can get if it meant destroying the Katsudon and Victor and especially JJ at Worlds.

He'd been fighting off irritation, and then worry, and then some combination of the two, but when he finally left the rink, it was nearly eight o'clock and he hadn't gotten more than some quick congratulations and good wishes from his rink mates and a phone call from Grandpa. Ugh. He flipped open his phone and saw that Yuuri had commented on the post where he'd announced he was leaving the rink. "Wow! Yakov kept you really late. Have a good birthday night."

There were more comments, some from other skaters, lots of birthday wishes from his crazy fans. No doubt the mail today had brought another giant pile of gifts, heavy on the cat plushies. Fine. Whatever. He didn't need those jerks to do anything for his birthday anyway. He fumed in silence while Yakov drove them back to Lilia's place.

Nothing going on here, either. The light in Lilia's office was on, but otherwise the house was quiet. Yuri opened the door and roughly pushed his way through, just wanting to make his way to his room as quickly as possible. He was halfway to the stairs when every light in the downstairs flashed on and a huge chorus of "Surprise!" Rang out around him.

He tried to huff. They could have picked some other distraction for him besides a grueling practice session. But Yuri couldn't help the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Lilia's house was, of course, beautiful inside and out, and the parlor sparkled with lights, streamers and balloons. The elegant cabinet where Lilia keeps her liquor had been expanded into its configuration as a bar where Mila passed something that looked like a godawfully fruity abomination across the bar to the Katsudon. Actually, it looked delicious. Maybe she'd let him have one.

As it turned out, he didn't even have to pester her too much. "But only one." She added. "Or Yakov might kill me for messing up your regimen."

"Tch." Yuri cast a derisive glance across the room. "How many has the piggy had?"

"Quite a few." Mila cackled gleefully, "I'm pouring so heavy, too. Consider it your present from Victor and me."

"What are you talking about, hag?" Yuri spat, or tried to. He felt his heart soat at the same time as a sick, leaden dread curled into his belly. This couldn't end well.

Yuuri had drained the shockingly pink cocktail in record time, and he giggled as Victor whispered in his ear. "Victoru!" His accent was heavier from the alcohol, "He's sixteen!"

"Oi, Katsudon," Yuri said, "I am sixteen. You got a problem with that."

"Yur-atch-ka!" Yuuri slurred, leaving Victor's side to hang over Yuri's shoulders. "Tell them no."

"No." He said, without thinking. Thinking was a little bit beyond him right now with drunk Katsudon plastered against his side.

"But, Yurio, I'm sure you'll like my plan!" Victor said, eyes gleaming. He'd been drinking, too, then, but not that much.

"No. No. No. No. No. No!" Yuuri was muttering against his neck. Yuri had to peel himself away, and fast. God, what did this idiot think he was doing clinging like that?

"What is wrong with you?" He muttered angrily, pushing Yuuri away with a harsh shove.

"Every party needs entertainment!" Victor said, still so cheerful that Yuri wanted to punch him in the face. "My Yuuri's had lots of practice stripping since you saw him at the banquet in Sochi. I'm trying to get him to put on a show for you."

"Whatever perverted shit you guys get up to at home, don't go bringing it where I live." Yuri spat. "why would you want him to do that for someone else anyway. Are you some kind of voyeur?"

Victor kept smiling, even wider now, "I feel so proud of how beautiful he is, I want to show everyone, off the ice or on." then he shrugged, "besides, he's coming home with me anyway. Why should I be bothered?"

Yuuri had reattached himself and was whispering sloppily against Yuri's ear. "He is kind of a voyeur, though. You should have seen how excited he got when he watched me and Chris, and we were definitely doing way more than dancing."

Yuri was speechless. Chris was okay and all, but he was too vulgar for someone like Yuuri. Fresh rage boiled in his gut, fighting against the sensation of Yuuri's arm around his shoulders, Yuri's lips against his ear. He was hard. Painfully so, and he hated it. He swung his gaze around the room wildly, wondering if he might be able to escape to his room unnoticed. He'd kill stupid fucking Katsudon for ruining his birthday.

Meanwhile, Yuuri kept babbling, and when Yuri caught up with him, he was saying, "so obviously, I can't do something like that for a minor, especially."

"Hey, Katsudon," Yuri growled. "Don't underestimate me. I'm not some delicately little flower! Sixteen is the age of consent in Russia, so it's fine. You'd better not keep treating me like a kid."

"But Yuratchka-" Yuuri whined.

The nickname snapped Yuri's patience and he watched from inside himself with horror as words tumbled out of his mouth. "I said I'm not a kid. You'd better shut your fat piggy mouth and show me what you've got before I kick you in the teeth." Even while his mouth was saying one thing his brain was screaming _No. No. Shut up. Stop! I will freaking die if he does this._

But the look on Yuuri's face had changed abruptly and in his dark gaze and wicked smirk, he read one thing. "Challenge accepted." _Oh. Shit_. Before Yuri could think of anything to stop this from happening, Yuuri was weaving over to the stereo where Mila's phone was already plugged in and waiting. She dashed over to intercept him as she brought up whatever it was he was looking for.

Yuri bristled as Victor pulled him by the shoulders, but Victor was larger and stronger by a wide margin and he found himself seated in a chair before the wide space Victor had cleared of both people and furniture with amazing speed.

Yuuri staggered over and gave Mila a thumbs up. Immediately, the music on the stereo changed and a male voice yelled out _1, 2, 3, 4_ before a guitar riff and a woman's wail thrummed and a woman's wail thrummed through the room. Not what he pictured the Katsudon listening to. Yuuri was immediately pogoing to the guitar like he was at a punk show. Maybe he was going to dance regular, no stripping. This didn't seem like the kind of song you'd use for that. But then song shifted and so did the dance. Yuuri's movements were still energetic but the steps and the sway of his body became more sultry as the lyrics began.

_You've been a juvenile_  
_With a dolphin smile_  
_With no elbow room_  
_And your body in bloom_

As expected, Yuuri's dance was captivating. This wasn't Eros with its sensual allure. Every motion spoke of the duality in the song, the raw longing passion of untested youth and the mocking smile of the older narrator. The song choice rankled. It said nothing so much as 'I'm humoring everyone (mostly Victor) with this, but I still see you as a kid.' Yuuri did indeed strip, tearing his clothes off quickly with vigor during the chorus until the verse slowed things down again and he smoothly peeled off his jeans in the midst of a one-handed back walkover. God, how could he be that drunk and not fall on his face pulling a move like that. Yuri's analytical mind was still churning, right alongside his lust soaked hindbrain and it was his saving grace until Yuuri swirled wildly around him over him where he sat, then danced away again mouthing the words blaring from the speaker all the while.

_You're only sixteen_  
_Try to cross the line_  
_But your little wings are intertwined_  
_Well, you're only sixteen_  
_And you're such a tease_  
_And there's nothing you can do_  
_That can really please_

Then the song slowed way down, music backing a spoken word segment, and Yuuri transitioned into a flawless, glacial ballet before the guitars screamed and he was flying again.

At the end of the dance, Yuuri was flushed and breathing hard. Little droplets of sweat shimmered on his chiseled body and Yuri watched one roll all the way down Yuuri's abs to soak into the waistband of his underwear before he realized exactly where he was looking and abruptly turned away, wishing he could chase the fire from his cheeks. Though, honestly, that was the least of his problems, just the most obvious to everyone else.

Strong fingers gripped his chin and he felt himself turned back. "Happy Birthday, Yuri!" Yuuri said brightly, kissing him quickly, on the cheek.

"Yes, happy birthday!" Echoed a smirking Victor who held something out to him, then, when Yuri made no move to take it, Victor put the small piece of plastic in Yuri's palm and closed his fingers over it. An SD card, Yuri saw when he opened his hand again to look. "It's the video of course!" Victor said brightly, "why don't you go put it somewhere safe in your room?"

How humiliating for Victor to be the one to give him an escape right now. He didn't dare do anything but take it though, and he ran to his room like his feet were on fire. Stupid fucking hormones. Stupid sexy Katsudon. Stupid arrogant Victor. Yuri fumed even as he whimpered and slammed the door behind him. As soon as he had his privacy, he roughly shoved down his jeans and the boxers enough to let his hands fly. He'd been desperate for release and it didn't take long, half a minute maybe. Carefully, he grabbed a tissue and cleaned up, then pulled the SD card from his pocket and tucked it carefully in the drawer of his nightstand. It was a good present, sort of, even if it did piss him off. He hadn't been gone long enough for anyone to really notice, he was sure of it, but a gentle tap on the door disturbed him anyway.

He jerked it open and came face to face with a worried looking, fully dressed Yuuri. Apparently the exertion must have cleared some of the alcohol haze, because he had a better handle on himself now. "Hey," Yuuri said, sounding dumb.

"What do you want?" Yuuri asked.

"Um . . . I think I got a little carried away." Yuuri said, his cheeks flushed, though it was hard to tell if it was embarrassment or the alcohol.

"Just promise me you'll never touch me with your lips again. Ever." Yuri was impressed with the amount of disgust in his voice.

"Right. Okay. Sorry." Yuuri looked at the ground.

"You better not keep moping, piggy." Yuri snapped. "You'll ruin my birthday."

"I was worried I already had." Yuuri looked chagrined.

"If you'll give me a rematch from our Sochi battle, I'll forgive you," Yuri muttered, "Just keep your damned clothes on."

"Yeah. Sorry again." Yuuri said, definitely going a brighter shade of pink. "Victor just has this way of making things sound like a good idea. I knew it was a bad plan."

Not that bad, Yuuri thought, in spite of himself, thinking of the video Victor had given him.

"Oh," Yuuri said, "I got you an actual present." He brought his hand out from behind his back and held out a smallish, wrapped box.

Grinning, Yuri tore open the paper and found opened the hinged box to find a gold pendant shaped like the head of a tiger with gleaming emerald eyes. "Hmpf." Yuri sniffed and pulled the chain over his head, feeling the weight of the pendant on his chest. "You have pretty good taste actually."

Katsudon looked like Yuri had just told him he'd won Worlds or something. Why was that idiot so happy to give him a present? What a loser. Before he could say anything to that effect, Yuuri was already across the hall and halfway down the stairs, though. So Yuri followed quickly.

He stopped short when he saw who was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. Otabek. He waited patiently for Yuri to reach him and put a steady hand on his shoulder in greeting. "Happy Birthday, Yuri." He said.

Yuri took a moment to retrieve his jaw from the floor and asked in awe "When did you get here?"

"I was in the restroom when you came in, and then you were busy." He said, serious as always. "Are you alright?"

Yuri would have kicked anyone else for asking such a thing, but this was Otabek, so it was okay. He just shrugged and didn't stop his eyes from following the path Yuuri had taken back to Victor's side. "Do you think he'll ever see me as more than a kid?" Yuri asked, voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Off the ice? Not anytime soon." Otabek replied after a thoughtful pause. "If he did, you wouldn't want it anyway."

That brought Yuri up short. What was Otabek saying, he'd wanted the Katsudon from the moment he'd seen him in Sochi. Well crap. That was the first he'd really admitted it to himself. He wanted to tell Otabek that he was wrong, but his only true fried was wise in a way that not many people were, so he just gave him a questioning look.

"When someone is out of your reach, you can have those kind of feelings without really worrying about reality." Otabek squeezed Yuri's shoulder, and it felt comforting in a way that nothing else really did. "If it's just a crush, you'll move on when you're ready, and if its more than that, it'll keep."

"Until he's married to Victor, no doubt." Yuri muttered darkly.

"Who knows?" Otabek said calmly. "Just let it be for now."

Yuri was so grateful for Otabek's advice, and his friend flying in to Saint Petersburg for his birthday was probably the best present he ever could have gotten. After that, the party turned out to be pretty fun, even if he did lose yet another dance-off.

There was only the one this time, and probably only because it was Yuri's birthday and he insisted. After that, everyone was dancing and having fun until Yakov reminded them that they still had practice tomorrow. Otabek stayed, though, and despite the exhausting day, he and Yuri talked all night in Yuri's room.

Yuri was still smiling when he woke up the next day to the sight of Otabek sleeping on his bedroom floor with Mischa sprawled across his head. It seemed like nothing would shake his good mood until Lilia stood up sharply after breakfast and he realized she was royally pissed. "You will battle Minako Okukawa's student again, Yura, and you will not fail." _Oh crap_. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That throw away mention of Chris is a reference to Benefits, which I will update soon.
> 
> Also, probably going to be a heavy Victuuri chapter next time.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one took a while, I'm still not completely sure about it, but here goes. Good news is I have a big chunk of 6 already done.

Yuuri squinted against the gleam of sunlight pouring through the window and dragged his pillow over his face. Well, he tried to, anyway. An obnoxiously chipper Victor pulled it away from him. "Here." Victor said, helping Yuuri sit up and then feeding him pills and water. "How's your head?"  
   
Yuuri groaned and assessed his condition. It was actually not as bad as he'd feared. "Tolerable." He said.   
   
"Good. I picked up breakfast already."  
   
Yuuri nodded, even though the thought of food didn't exactly do great things for him at the moment. "Please tell me there's enough carbs and fat in whatever you made to actually settle this hangover."  
   
"Wow! You think you can handle that after all the alcohol calories? I brought you Rossolnik, it's good for hangovers."   
   
When Yuuri made his way out of their room a few minutes later, he saw that Victor had laid two bowls of thick looking soup with lots of meat and vegetables. A pot of sour cream and a loaf of dark bread sat between them. Scowling at a judgmental look from Victor, Yuuri heaped sour cream onto his bowl, in Russia, it seemed sour cream was served with everything, and took a bite. "Oh. This is alright."   
   
"Mmm. I love you, piglet." Victor said, leaning forward to brush a quick kiss against Yuuri's lips. "Besides, you probably worked off some of it already, with the way you were dancing last night."   
   
Everything came flooding back. The party. The dancing. Yuri. Oh god. He'd given that child a lap dance. Groaning, he put his head in hands. "I can't go to that rink ever again." He muttered. "I'm going to die."  
   
"It's nothing most of them hadn't seem before anyway."  
   
"You aren't making things better." Yuuri muttered, still refusing to show his face.  
   
"Oh, it's fine!" Victor said, "you acquitted yourself very well."  
   
That was hardly the issue. "Serioulsy, do you think I should apologize to Yurio?" He asked "I probably embarassed him."  
   
Victor's smiled mysteriously. "If you bring that up, he'll be insulted, and I think he liked it anyway. Though you'd know more about that, wouldn't you?" And there was the classic Victor Nikiforov wink.  
   
Yuuri was horrified. "Victor! I got close, but I wasn't grinding on him. I have no idea if he had that kind of reaction. I don't want to know. He's sixteen!"  
   
"Of course he did. You remember being that age. A stiff breeze is about all it takes most days." Victor said.   
   
"I don't know. If I had someone I didn't like dancing all over me when I was that age, I think I'd have been terrified, not excited." Yuuri admitted.

"What if it was someone you did like?" Victor asked, licking his lips.   
   
"Well, the person I liked was impressively pregnant at that point, so that's an . . . odd image." Yurri said.   
   
"Yuuko?" Victor asked. "You had a thing for Yuuko? Wait, the names . . . You aren't secretly their father are you?" His eyes were shining and his tone was rising like he was thrilled to be part of a family drama.  
   
"What!?" Yuuri nearly spit out his coffee. "Of course not. Nothing ever happened there. If it did I would have been more careful than Nishigori. She was a skater, too, you know. At the national level only, but she was really working hard. She scored 163 something at regionals, and between then and Nationals it was all over."  
   
"She told you first?" Victor asked.  
   
Yuuri nodded solemnly, "She didn't want to tell him until after she decided."  
   
"I'm sorry." Victor murmured. "That sounds hard."   
   
Yuuri just shrugged. He wasn't the one who really struggled with that. He'd already known Yuuko and Nishigori would end up together anyway.  
   
"What would you have done if I'd danced for you back then?" Victor asked, changing the subject back, eyes alight with interest.  
   
"Umm . . . Probably cardiac arrest." Yuuri said, confused.   
   
"Did you really like me that much?"  
   
Yuuri nodded.  
   
"Do you like me that much now?" Victor asked, "I don't know if I could still provoke that kind of reaction." As he said this, Victor slid forward to rub himself against Yuuri's side like a big cat.  
   
Yuuri wasn't so sure, but he managed to get out, with only minimal stuttering, "I'm not sure me having a heart attack would actually be that fun for you."  
   
Victor tilted his head in amusement. "No. But sometimes I wish I could have ravished you when you were still all star-struck." He took Yuuri's spoon and fed him a bite of his breakfast. "It's mostly you doing the ravaging, these days."   
   
"Do you want-" Were things not okay the way they were? Victor immediately silenced Yuuri with a gentle finger against his lips.  
   
"If I don't stop you there, you'll get all worried about nothing." Victor said. "I'm addicted to the things you do to me. But sometimes I like it when you're all nervous and cute."  
   
"Go to your practice." Yuuri said, aware that his cheeks must be very pink. "And later maybe I'll tell you more about when I gazed on you from afar."   
   
//  
   
Mila and Georgi weren't at the rink when Victor arrived, and Yurio wasn't due in until later to practice figures with Yuuri. Yakov was there, though, and his silence seemed to resound through the whole facility. Victor immediately felt just a little nervous. Yakov was the opposite of Yuuri. Outright yelling was business as usual, but Yakov's silent treatment meant he was pissed.  
   
"Good morning, Yakov" He said with a sheepish smile.  
   
"Hmmpf"  
   
"What did I do this time?" He asked.  
   
Yakov turned to him, outrage written plain on his face, then shock. Victor warmed up in pained silence then skated over to Yakov and asked again. There was the outrage again befor, in disgust, Yakov muttered "You honestly don't know."  
   
"Would I be asking you if I did?" Okay, maybe, but he really didn't know why Yakov was mad. They hadn't even spoken since yesterday. Sure, Yurio's party had been his idea, but that had gone really well. Yurio definitely had fun.   
   
"I'm holding you entirely responsible for that mess last night." Yakov gritted out.  
   
"Mess?" Victor asked, "It went swimmingly. Yurio had a wonderful time. He was so surprised to see Otabek there, too."  
   
"Victor, I have been your coach since you were fourteen. The rest of the world might buy that smile, but I know damned well when you're being an asshole. And Yuri is under enough pressure without you tormenting him. And don't tell me it wasn't you. Katsuki has no idea."  
   
Victor really laughed then. "Yuuri didn't even know I was interested in him for the first six months I was in Japan."  
   
"You flew halfway around the world with hearts in your eyes and practically threw yourself at him. What else could he possibly have thought?" Yakov looked at him harshly.   
   
"Apparently, that I was looking for an excuse to take a break and more or less chose him at random. And that I behaved that way with everyone." Victor shrugged.   
   
Yakov scoffed at that. "Idiots. All of you children. Stop dangling Yuuri Katuski in front of him like a damned cat toy before you get scratched. If I thought I could handle another student, I'd try to take on Otabek just so I wouldn't have to think of Georgi as the level headed one."  
   
"Surely, Mila is the more rational-"  
   
"Victor," Yakov said, "as soon as you believe that about any woman, you are doomed."  
   
Victor shook his head. Yakov was a bit old fashioned in some of his views.   
   
//  
   
"Um, hi," Yuuri said, wishing he could sound more confident. The truth was, Yakov still intimidated him.  
   
"Yuuri," Yakov said, "Thank you for coming."  
   
"Of course!" Yuuri answered a little too quickly.  
   
"Otabek Altin will be joining us as well today, since he's here." Yuuri gulped. He actually liked Otabek a lot, but he was also perhaps the most intimidating person Yuuri had ever met. Why did everyone want to come watch him skate figures for heaven's sake? It was boring to watch. It was what he normally did to get away from people. But he still owed Yurio for teaching him to land the quad Salchow last year, so it couldn't be helped.   
   
Moments later, Yurio and Otabek walked in, deep in conversation. It was good Yurio had found a friend.  
   
"What are you smiling about, Katsudon?" Yuri asked   
   
"Ah, nothing," Yuuri responded. If he said, Yurio would probably think he was being patronizing. Victor had told him that apologizing would make things worse, but Yuuri still felt awkward about last night. He decided to hedge and offer a more general apology. "I'm sorry I got so drunk last night. I got kind of out of hand again."   
   
Otabek looked at him with a serious, unreadable expression, and Yuuri turned away quickly.  
   
"It's fine." Yurio snapped, "Let's just get on with it already."  
   
"Yuuri Katsuki," Yakov said, gruff as usual, "Just skate as usual. Yuratchka, come here so I can point out a few things you can learn from Yuuri's technique."  
   
"Show off." Yuri said dismissively a while later, looking at the intricate pattern Yuuri's skates had traced on the ice. Otabek was silent and stone faced as usual.  
   
Yuuri shrugged. He hadn't been showing off. He'd chosen a more complex exercise because there were people watching him. Something that demanded his focus remain only on ice and blade kept him from thinking about them.  
   
"Beautiful, Yuuri!" Victor said, wrapping his arms around Yuuri's shoulders from behind and leaning his sweat-damp head against Yuuri's cheek. He was probably just finished with his own gym time. "Yakov, are you done with Yuuri now?"  
   
"Yes. We'll be in the rink for a while more, though."  
   
"Got it. Come on, Yuuri, I brought you a protein shake." Victor said playfully.   
   
"Ew." Yurio punched Victor's arm, "Do you have to be so gross?" Yuuri couldn't see Victor's expression, but he could guess at the kind of grin that might be gracing his perfect features.   
   
Then he realized what Yurio meant by that and waved his hands emphatically, "No. I swear that wasn't a euphemism. Oh God." His movements did nothing to dislodge Victor, so he squirmed free and then shoved at him. "S-s-stop laughing! I can't believe you were going to let him think we would do that kind of thing at the rink."   
   
"Wouldn't we?" Victor asked, surprised.  
   
"Of course not!" Yuuri said, sure that if spontaneous human combustion were possible, his face would be on fire.   
   
He nearly jumped out of his skin when Yakov hollered. "Get out of here, Vitya!" The man looked like he might have a coronary.  
   
"Come on, Yuuri," Victor chirped, entirely unperturbed by the outburst. "I have videos set up for us." Great. Yuuri hated watching himself on film in even the best scenarios. He knew from long experience that Victor would mercilessly pick apart every nuance of his most recent run through of his routines like the most critical judge, noting every tiny imperfection of movement or expression and then drilling it relentlessly in the next practice.  
   
They'd limited these sessions to twice per week given how much they made Yuuri want to crawl under a rock and die. Victor insisted that this far into the season when his routines needed only polishing and consistency, daily would be better. He picked through his own performances every day with Yakov in this exact manner, had, apparently, for years.   
   
Being privy to Victor's own training had shocked Yuuri in a way he hadn't expected. Victor's genius lay in designing programs that pushed the envelope of technical and artistic possibility, but his perfect performances came down entirely to rigorous, focused work. Yuuri had been competing internationally for enough years to know that Victor's work ethic was uncommon, even at their level. When Victor had said there'd been nothing at all of consequence in his life besides skating, Yuuri hadn't understood before. There was an extent to which it was true of all of them of course, but Victor took that to such an extreme. His easy cheerfulness let him get along with everyone, but he didn't have friends except Chris. Victor's parents had both died in an accident when he was eight, he had no siblings, no other family at all. An elderly great aunt had been his guardian until she passed and Yakov took on that role.  
   
Yuuri understood a little better now why Victor had reacted so strongly to his planned retirement back in Barcelona. Victor didn't actually understand how to have a relationship that didn't revolve around skating. Yuuri had meant to end their time as coach and student, not the personal side of their relationship, but now he was only now realizing that for Victor, there was no separation. His coaching really was the way he showed his love, it was the only way he knew how. Yuuri sighed. They'd have to learn. He had another couple of seasons in him at best, and he certainly didn't intend to let Victor go when he eventually did retire.  
   
"Why are you sighing?" Victor asked, "That step sequence is not the problem. Are you even paying attention?" His expression darkened though his smile remained, and Yuuri rushed to assure him he'd be more focused from now on. "Look, the entry into the combination . . .here. Your outside edge needs to tilt about ten degrees this way. Do you see?"   
   
They came out with a list small errors, then drilled them relentlessly until Yuuri wanted to run away lest he punch Victor in the face in frustration. "The last two were better, Yuuri." Victor said, as if reading his thoughts. "Are you ready to run through the whole program?"  
   
Yuuri did, and he felt like a champion for just nailing all his quads at the end of such a practice. Victor had latched on to pushing the limits of Yuuri's stamina with a passion that could only be considered sadistic. He had a point, though. Even with a quad flip in his line up, Yuuri wouldn’t ever have the most or the best jumps. But he had a better shot at loading most of them into the back half of his program than anyone else. "That was beautiful! I couldn't even tell you were tired." Victor handed him a recovery drink and shepherded him off the ice. "Let's go cool down, hmm?" On the upside, the increased duration of intense training earned him extra calories. He kind of wanted to pass out though. Forget about a leisurely cool down.  
   
//  
   
"Come on." Yuri grabbed Otabek's hand and pulled him toward the locker room. "We're not giving those two the opportunity to get frisky"  
   
"It's not our business." Otabek shrugged, but follow Yuri anyway.   
   
"Oh, hi boys!" Victor said, waving as if he were truly delighted to see them. "Were you watching? My Yuuri's going to take gold at Worlds, don't you think?"  
   
Yuri couldn't believe him. "Aren't you supposed to want to win yourself?" He asked.   
   
"Sure, that would be nice, too." Victor waved the comment off with a shrug. Yuri supposed that at least his priorities were clear.   
   
"No it wouldn't." Yuri growled. "I hope he destroys you."  
   
"Between the four of us I hope we can at least shut out JJ." Otabek said.  
   
"I don’t really get what everyone has against him." Yuuri said, stepping out of the shower area with too small towel wrapped precariously around his hips. "But yes, good luck to us all!" Then he plucked at the towel and sighed. "I miss the onsen."  
   
Yuri did, too. As much as he'd found the very idea of it abhorrent at first, the baths in Hasetsu had been the perfect way to end a day of training. He turned to explain to Otabek. "Yuuri's family owns a hot springs resort. It's really nice."  
   
"I thought you didn't like taking a bath with other people," Victor teased.   
   
"It's not weird there because everyone does it there." Yuri snapped. "At least I'm not a vain idiot who tries to post nude selfies."   
   
Victor shrugged. "The fans love it."   
   
"Katsudon has lots of fans, and he manages to restrain himself." Yuri grumbled.  
   
"Oh, I don't really, not like the rest of you do."  
   
Yuri bristled. What an ass. Yuuri's fan base was every bit as broad as his own. It was beyond callous the way he had no perception of that. Not that he got approached much. Yuuri terrified anyone who actually spoke to him, which was beyond laughable. "You're a fucking joke." Yuri spat. "And you're an idiot. And you're wrong!" He was yelling now. Where was his damned phone? He patted his pockets in irritation.   
   
"Here." Otabek said quietly, plucking the device from the bench and handing it over.  
   
Yuri nodded his thanks and typed in a few characters. His browser filled in the rest of the url helpfully. Thank god no one else could see that. "Look at it."  
   
He thrust his phone so hard at Yuuri he nearly hit him in the face. "The Unofficial Yuuri Katsuki Fan Site" Yuuri murmured. "This is probably just Minami-kun going overboard." He shrugged and handed the phone back, apparently without noticing the part in the description about the thousands of community members. Minami, though, that was the name of the site's owner. Yuri hissed, hurt on Minami's behalf at the way Yuuri dismissed him so easily.  
   
He thought he might actually kill someone when Victor grabbed the phone from Yuuri's hand and flipped through the site. Yuri had left himself logged in, stupidly, and Victor could easily see which links he'd clicked through. "Ooh!" Victor said, excitement palpable, dodging Yuri's kick with practiced ease and holding the phone up higher. "Yuuri, there's a whole gallery that's just photos of your butt!" He scrolled through, intent, making occasional comments and Yuri seethed.  
   
Yuuri muttered a defeated "Please stop." But then he collected himself. Apparently, he'd picked up some of Victor's talent for changing the subject because he turned pointedly away from Victor and said, "You'll probably get to meet Minami at Worlds, Yuratchka." He was a skater, too? Unbelievable. "He's close to your age, and he's got a lot of promise." After a pause, though, he added, "I don't know if you have much else in common though."   
   
"Tch." Yuri scoffed. More than you think, idiot. Yuri still wasn't all the way on board with casual nudity. He turned his back in a hurry when Yuuri dropped his towel to dress.   
   
"Well," Victor chirped, "At the very least, they're both members of the Yuuri Katsuki fan club.   
   
"Yeah, right." Yuuri laughed, clearly unconvinced, then noticed the stern look Otabek was giving him and finished putting on his street clothes without further comment. Thank you, Beka. As soon as he finished, he shuffled out of the locker room.  
   
"Would you boys like to come over for dinner?" Victor asked.  
   
"No." Yuri said immediately. "Why would we want to hang out with you losers? Come on Beka."  
   
Yuri stormed out of the rink. Otabek followed him, saying nothing when Yuri slammed his shoulder into Yuuri's as he passed him.   
   
//  
   
Victor picked up the hot and cold containers from in front of their apartment door. Victor couldn't cook worth a damn. He had chef made meals delivered almost daily. Yuuri had protested, since this seemed wasteful. He could cook, after all. Food meant love and comfort and home to him, and in the States, without his mother constantly preparing wonderful meals, he'd had to learn. When Yuuri made this point, Victor sharply replied that if Yuuri had the energy to cook from scratch almost every day, he surely hadn't been training to his full potential.   
   
Now, Yuuri saw the wisdom of that. He was hungry, but his tired muscles seemed to be draining all the energy out of him. He almost fell asleep on the couch while Victor set the table. "Lemme rest." He muttered, when Victor called him to the table.  
   
"After you eat." Victor said. "Everything. You worked hard, we want you gaining strength, not losing it."  
   
Yuuri groaned. Sometimes, Victor would come feed him and then massage his legs and feet if he pouted enough. They'd made a habit of it in Hasetsu, but Victor's own training took a lot out of him. It wasn't fair to ask for that now. Yuuri nodded and pulled himself over to the table.   
   
//  
   
Victor woke up alone in the middle of the night, heart pounding. Yuuri wasn’t there. Silent sobs welled up inside him and he clutched his pillow to his chest. He needed Yuuri.  
   
“Victor?!” Yuuri walked in from the bathroom carrying a glass of water. In moments, Victor felt himself held, surrounded by Yuuri’s strong arms, and then Makkachin jumped up on the bed as well and he was covered in warmth and love. “Victor, what’s wrong?”  
   
Yuuri’s thumbs brushed over Victor’s cheeks, sweeping away his tears. “Horrible nightmare.” Victor shuddered.   
   
“Want to talk about it?”  
   
“I never saw that video, never became your coach.” Victor said, and had to gather himself against a fresh wave of emotion. “And then I woke up and you weren’t here and I couldn’t tell which was the dream and which was real.” It had been horrible. Skating this whole season to another string of empty victories, the dream grand prix final where Yuuri had turned away from him again, just like the first time.  
   
“Silly Victor,” Yuuri said, “That’s not so bad.” Self-deprecation really was Yuuri’s strong suit.  
   
“Do you really still no know how much I need you?” Victor asked, hurt and comforted all at once.  
   
“It’s not that.” Yuuri said. “I was yours for a long time before you came to Hasetsu. You just didn’t know it. So if it ever turns out you dreamed it all, just come find me again, okay?”  
   
“Yuuri!” Victor broke out of their hug just so he could throw his arms around Yuuri and press kisses over every inch of him that he could reach.  
   
“Feel better?”  
   
Victor nodded.  
   
Yuuri gently freed himself from the embrace, slipped gracefully out of his pajamas and laid back in the middle of the bed. “Then come show me who I belong to, hmm?” As if Victor could ever say anything but yes. He nudged Makkachin, who left the bed obediently, but with a betrayed expression.  
   
Victor knew they both might regret forgoing so much sleep tomorrow, but perhaps there would be time for a nap in between practices. For now, he needed to show Yuuri exactly how loved and needed he was, how beautiful. Even without the shock of that nightmare, Yuuri so rarely just relaxed and let Victor make love to him. Not that Victor was complaining. Yuuri had grown into his eros with thrilling ferocity, and Victor loved every minute of it. Still, he craved this, too, and now that Yuuri had put himself at Victor’s tender mercy, he’d keep him there for hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thabk ypu for reading, please let me know what you thought-your comments keep me going!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been several drafts in the making, and it took me a while to get it in the realm of where I wanted it to be. It could still benefit from a beta, probably, but unless someone wants to jump on board, I don’t have one, so here goes.

"Hey, Katsudon," Yuuri looked up, hands still buried in Makkachin's curls. He'd noticed lately that Yura tended to be more civil when Victor wasn't around. In retrospect, that had always been the case. "I'm sick of _Stammi Vicino_. Pick something else for your exhibition skate at Worlds."

"I don't even know if I'll make the podium."

"You'd better or I won't forgive you." Yura spat.

Yuuri just shrugged. Obviously he and Victor couldn’t both use _Stammi Vicino_. He had a bunch of old gala programs that had hardly seen the light of day, and he could have used any of those, but then he’d had to go and lose that bet. He almost hoped he _didn’t_ medal at Worlds. Not really, but still, he should have known better than to put his exhibition program on the line when he couldn’t quite keep up with Victor and Chris’s wagers, and now, if he did win anything at Worlds, he was definitely going to die.

"I’ve already got something else.” He mumbled. “You’ll see it if I medal. So next time you want to kick me, Yuratchka, could you maybe not?"

Yuri seemed to be  trying to keep a straight face, but his pale cheeks were pink and his vivid sea green eyes sparkled with happiness. "You're really cute when you're looking all sweet like that. You should try to be less belligerent sometimes." Yuuri teased, smirking.

"Stupid Katsudon," Yuri grumbled, "Why would you go and say something like that." There was only a little venom in it, though. "I want a snack. And then I'm going to kick your ass."

Yuuri doubted that. He'd logged way more hours practicing first person shooters than Yuri had. This had become their tradition on Thursdays, when both of them had most of the day off to make room for Victor and Yakov's to have more of each other’s undivided attention. He'd found Yuri wandering in a nearby park while he ran Makkachin and invited him home for lunch. Which turned into a day, then an evening of intense gaming. That had been back in January, and they'd made it a weekly tradition.

They didn't really talk a lot, not the extended, hushed exchanges he had with Victor, anyway. But in offhand comments, little snippets, he had learned a lot about Yuri. He'd expected his past to be more like Victor's for some reason. Everyone was always comparing them. But except for the raw talent, they weren't really very similar at all.

While Yuuri crossed to the kitchen to put together a plate of vegetables and cold cuts, Yuri asked. "Why did you skate _Stammi Vicino_ anyway? You didn't even remember the banquet, so it wasn't a message to Victor like he thought it was."

"I've been copying Victor's routines since I was twelve. It's fun. After Socchi, I was trying to remind myself that skating is fun." Yuuri had said. "The video was an accident. You know how Yuuko's girls are."

"Boy do I." Yuri huffed. There was probably a story there. "What's fun got to do with skating, though? It's a job. If you're having fun, you could be working harder."

"You don't have fun when you skate?"

"Winning is fun." Yuri shrugged.

"That's a very jaded point of view for someone so young." Yuuri said.

"I'm not a kid." Yura answered, annoyance starting to show. "I've been supporting my family for years now. If I don't win enough, my parents don't eat and Grandpa can't get his medicine. It's been easier this year. Money’s definitely better in the senior bracket."

Yuuri wasn’t sure what to say to that. He wanted to say that it wasn’t fair, for a kid to have to think about that kind of thing. Maybe Yura knew what he was thinking, because after a long moment of silence, he said, with a vestige of his usual vitriol, “Don’t go feeling bad for me, Katsudon. Just believe me when I tell you I’m not a kid, okay?” Yuuri had nodded, not sure what else to do.

“You kind of are a kid, though?” Yuuri said, “You’re not old enough to drive.”

“Oh, like you can drive anyway.”

“Of course I drive,” Yuuri was a little amused, “I lived in the US for five years. Everyone drives there. I guess maybe not if you live in the middle of a big city.”

“Weren’t you in Detroit?” Yura asked.

“Not exactly.” Yuuri said. Geographically, sure, it was basically Detroit, but Bloomfield Hills wasn’t really the same thing at all.

They were silent for a long while after that, until Yura asked, “After next season . . . will you teach me?”

Yuuri was surprised that Yura would want that, but he didn’t really mind. It would be nice to get to tell Yura what to do for a change, at least. “Sure. I’m surprised you don’t want Victor or Yakov to teach you.”

“Have you seen Victor drive?” Yura’s tone was incredulous.

“Actually, no.”

“Yeah, well, that’s probably why you’re still alive.”

After that, they played in relative silence punctuated only by the sound effects from the game and Yura’s occasional cursing. They were still at it when Victor arrived from practice, looking utterly worn out, and Yuuri soon excused himself to greet his partner.

//

Yuri watched Katsudon leave the couch, and he immediately felt colder. He watched the screen, restarting the game to wreak digital havoc while pointedly avoiding the couple’s reunion. “Yurio, are you staying for dinner?” Victor asked, sounding way too happy, even through his evident exhaustion.

“Depends what you’re having.” Victor looked at the paperwork attached to the box he'd brought in.

"Turkey chili mac and cheese today." Victor read. "That's different."

"I had the service add a few things to the rotation." Yuuri said. "I used to have that in Detroit. I think you'll both like it."

"Is there enough?" Yuri asked.

"Of course." Victor said, "We've been ordering dinner for three for a while now."

"What, for me?" Yuri flinched internally at the way that came out. It sounded incredulous and bratty, he knew. "I don't even eat with you guys that much."

"We wanted you to feel welcome, Yuratchka." Yuuri said, softly, sounding nervous. "I don't mind heating up leftovers the next day if you aren't here." God damn it. Why did Katsudon have to go and say shit like that?

"Why are you so nice to me?" Yuri asked. "It's pathetic! We're competitors, you know." God he was pissed off. Yuri acknowledged that irritation was his base emotional state, but that stupid pork cutlet bowl really took him to a whole new level.

"Because I know your secret." Yuuri said, and there was that damned smirk again. Yuri swore his heart stopped. No. There was no way. Did Victor tell him? Yuri had sort of trusted Victor not to say anything, but he couldn't really figure out why now.

"Oh? What secret is that, Yuuri?" Victor asked, his tone dangerously benign. What game was he playing?

"Yura is just like the little cat Yuuko had when we were kids." Yuuri said, "He wants you to think he's a terrifying ball of claws and rage, but he actually just needs to be cuddled." Yuri let go of the breath he'd been holding, realizing that Yuuri didn't really know after all. Katsudon threw him off balance again, though, when he slid into the space beside Yuri and pet his hair. "You're really a very good boy, little Yuratchka kitten."

Yuri's face burned, and he hoped Katsudon interpreted that as rage. That would be more effective if he could find the will to shove the idiot away. Not possible. The gentle weight of Yuuri's hand on his head pinned him in place more effectively than any shackle. God, this was the worst. He'd never once thought he'd want someone calling him "good boy", or "kitten" for that matter.  He was the gold medalist here, not stupid Katsudon. There was no good reason why that stupid pig's words should mean anything at all, but he already craved more of the affectionate praise. His body's response was predictably treacherous, but this feeling was something deeper. " _I hate you._ " He gritted out between clenched teeth.

"No you don't." Yuuri said placidly.

Yuri couldn't respond. He felt like he might implode at any moment. He took some solace in Victor's too neutral expression. There was no more playful delight in his eyes. Victor had so little reason to be jealous of Yuri that it was almost a joke, but Yuri would take what he could from this shit fest. "I suppose I don't if you keep playing with my hair." Yuri thrilled at how imperious he'd managed to sound, despite all his internal flailing. "It feels nice." And then, without taking his eyes off Victor, he rubbed himself against Yuuri, catlike as he could manage.

"See?" Yuuri murmured, "You are a good boy, Yuratchka." He combed his fingers through Yuri's hair, tugging just a little, and Yuri had to work to keep his breath steady. "Your hair is so pretty. You know," he added, "I actually cried when Victor cut his."

Victor's eyes widened comically and Yuri scoffed, grasping at the strands of his composure. "You're still pathetic." But he felt pretty good about himself right now. Katsudon liked his hair. And Victor could never grow his out again, because as much of an idiot as he was, he had to know that balding with ponytail could never be a good look.

Yuuri just shrugged and threw an arm around Yuri's shoulders in a quick hug before crossing the apartment to start unpacking dinner. “So, you’re staying, right?” As soon as he moved, Victor did too. He was all over Yuuri, reclaiming territory he hadn't even lost until Yuuri lost finally snapped, "Victor, stop hanging on me, you're in the way. Go set the table." Yuri watched in amazement as Victor actually obeyed, looking like a kicked puppy.

“Hey, Katsudon,” Yuri said, “Whatever you’re doing, you could probably sell your secrets to Yakov and be set for life.”

“Yuuri’s technique definitely would _not_ work for Yakov.” Victor shuddered.

Yuuri buried his pink cheeks in his hands and muttered, “Ew. Please I need a new mental image.”

“Phichit made tiny hamster hats for his hamsters!” Yuri quickly shoved his phone, picture up, in front of Yuuri’s face.

“Phichit.” Yuuri shook his head fondly. Then he patted Yuri’s head again and repeated his earlier “Good boy, Yuratchka.” In a bemused tone that Yuri didn’t quite know what to do with. All he knew was that if he hadn’t been wrapped around Katsudon’s little finger before, he definitely was now.

“Don’t touch me, Pig!” Yuri snapped.

“And that’s how he does it.” Victor chimed in cheerfully. His eyes were still hard when he looked at Yuri, though. “Though I get better rewards.” And with that, he made a perfect performance of sinking to his knees and leaning his face suggestively towards Yuuri’s body.

Practically writhing with embarrassment, Yuuri walked a couple paces away, pulling Victor with him without giving him a chance to stand properly. “What do you think you’re doing in front of Yura, Victor?” Yuuri hissed. “He’s only sixteen.”

Yuri felt like he’d taken a punch to the gut. Victor apologized blithely, then laughed and laughed, his delight all the more cruel for the genuine happiness it embodied.

“I’m not a kid, piggy.” Yuri said, aware that his petulance was probably not supporting the assertion. “I’m not going to be soiled by the idea of Victor blowing you. Not that I want to think about that. Ew.” Which was not entirely a lie. Because Yuri’s thoughts didn’t have much room for Victor.

Yuuri looked shocked at Yuri’s words then gave a little self-deprecating huff and said, “I guess I’m a late bloomer in more ways than one. I would have been, at your age.”

“What, really?” Yuri could sort of believe it. “Don’t tell me Victor popped your cherry, Katsudon. That’d be pathetic even for you.” He sort of felt bad at how uncomfortable and red Yuuri looked, but then he was talking, and Yuri couldn’t help it. He wanted to know. He didn’t know why he cared. He shouldn’t care.

“No, but I was older than you.” Yuuri said, looking at the ground, hands twisting in his shirt. And here came Victor. Apparently, this was new information to him, too, because Yuri knew that curious expression.

“Yuuri, you told me you never had a lover before.” Victor said, sounding confused, but not particularly put out.

“Uh” Yuuri hedged, “What I actually said was ‘no comment’, Vitya.” Stupid Victor. Of course he’d be arrogant enough to go making that kind of assumption. Katsudon might not be the type to kiss and tell, but how could someone like him _not_ have had some experience.

“Oh.” Victor pressed on. “Okay. So, Yuuri, tell me. I want to know about your first time.”

Yuuri looked at Yuri, clearly uncomfortable, but no way was Yuri going to let himself be kicked out of this conversation. “It’s fine Katsudon.” He growled “Seriously, I have the internet. It would probably be good for me to get a more realistic idea what it’s like.”

Yuuri looked between the two of them, defeated. “It wasn’t anything special. Victor, remember that girl I told you about, the one who hugged me in the hospital?”

Victor’s eyes widened. “Yuuri,” his tone was more stern than Yuri had ever heard it, especially directed at Yuuri. “Was this before or after the hospital?”

“Before. There was a party, we’d both had a little too much to drink. We were dancing and then she asked me if I wanted to go upstairs, so we did. It felt nice, and I liked that I could make her feel good, but it was just another thing I did. Not life changing or anything…” Yuuri shrugged as if that was all there were to it. Victor didn’t say anything else for a long moment, but his face held such censure. Yuri didn’t know what that was about. Victor definitely didn’t have room to be irritated with Katsudon for sleeping around before they were together.

“Were there others?” Victor shook his head and then asked, more neutrally.

“Hmm? Yeah. So that happened a few times with parties and drinking, and I guess word got out so people started kind of seeking me out at those things.”

“What the hell does that mean, ‘word got out?” Yuri asked.

“Umm . . .” Yuuri blushed furiously and his hands were busy tearing a paper napkin into bits. “I still don’t really know. Phichit said it was that I ‘showed people a good time and was really nice as long as they were okay keeping things casual.’” Yuuri looked like he wanted to die.

Victor grinned wolfishly. “Don’t forget handsome, fit, and impressively well endowed.’” That was last thing was information Yuri would never be able to expunge from his brain, even if he wanted to. “That does explain a few things, actually.” Victor added cryptically.

“It’s not like it was really a lot!” Yuuri said, indignant. “I was too busy with training and school to party much.”

“I guess I can see it, though I wouldn’t have guessed at you being the type for quick, no strings hook ups. Makes sense, though, now that I think about it. So was there never anyone special?”

“I don’t really want to talk about that.” Yuuri put an end to that line of questioning, and Yuri felt so weirdly vindicated he wanted to wanted to punch Victor the face for even asking, because the idea that he wouldn’t expose his real intimacies, even in this close setting, was exactly what he’d expect from someone like Katsudon. Victor looked like he didn’t want to drop it, but then Yuuri asked “What about you, Victor?” and that self-absorbed idiot was all too happy to talk about himself.

“Oh, you know how training camps can be.” Victor shrugged mysteriously. And Yuri realized that yes, he did know how training camps can be, but no one in juniors with him had ever been good enough to catch his attention, and now he wasn’t about to waste energy he could use to improve his scores, not when it was taking every ounce of his strength just to remain a viable contender. “I was fourteen, maybe? I don’t really remember. And I’ve had my flings, through the years.” He tilted his head to the side and said brightly, “How about you, Yura, still pure as driven snow?”

Yuri flipped him off and turned away. “I’ve had offers. No one was worth my time.” It was true, as far as it went. Actually, aside from his creepy fan club, he didn’t get so many as he used to, now that he wasn’t in a bracket with so many others his own age. Not that he’d want someone his own age anyway. Teenagers were stupid. “Besides, I don’t want some idiot kid. I want a man. One that’s not a pedo creeper. So I’ve probably got to wait.”

“What about Otabek?” Yuuri asked, thoughtfully, “He’s like the most manly skater I’ve ever met, and he’s not that much older than you, really.”

“Beka doesn’t like me like that.” Yuri said quickly. The idea was honestly absurd. If Otabek was interested, he’d have made a move ages ago, wouldn’t he? Yuri hadn’t really thought about it before, but he probably wouldn’t say no. He rolled his eyes and then heaped food onto his plate before he could say anything stupid.

//

At Worlds, Yuri watched the medal ceremony, fuming with renewed drive. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d missed the podium completely. It hadn’t happened since he was a kid. Fifth. He’d finished fifth. Behind JJ. Again. It could have been worse, though. Katsudon had taken silver and Victor “living legend” Nikiforov had to settle for bronze, so there was some justice in the World. That giant perv Giacometti had taken gold, and he couldn’t look happier. Yuri hadn’t really been worried about him, but it was shocking how much better he got as the season went on.

In between press photos, the tree medalists stuck awfully close together. Then he heard a startled squeak from Yuuri and a fond chuckle from Victor and realized where that Swiss asshole’s hands were. “Mila,” He grabbed his rink mate roughly by the arm. “Your switching rooms with me tonight.”

“Why’s that, Yurio?” Yuri gritted his teeth. He’d finally gotten Katsudon to stop calling him that and then she’d gone and picked it up like some form of divine smiting.

“Because my room is between all of theirs.” He waved at the trio of medalists. There was even an actual door connecting his room to Victor and Yuuri’s. “And if I hear them ‘celebrating’ all night, I’m definitely gonna hurl.”

“Fine.” Mila said, “but you owe me.”

Later, when most of the media circus had wound down, Yuuri looked at his medal and Victor’s with this weird expression on his face like he’d just run over his own dog or something. Victor had has public face on as always, but Yuri knew him well enough to see that he was probably in a pensive. The last time Victor had settled for bronze was probably ten years ago.

Victor was still surrounded by reporters when Katsudon slunk off to the locker room. Yuri followed him, only to be brought up short by Katsudon fucking sobbing. Goddammit this was like a twisted replay of Sochi. Except Yuuri had done great, had beaten Victor by more than three points, and lost to Chris by less than half of one.

“Hey, Katsudon,” Yuri hissed, driving an elbow into Yuuri’s ribs, “Don’t kick my ass and Victor’s and then look like someone just kicked you in the gut. You’re supposed to gloat now so I can hate that I lost to you without feeling _bad_ about it.” Yuuri just gripped the back of Yuri’s jacket tighter, feeling the familiar tightness of an oncoming panic attack.

Yuri wasn’t sure what he expected in this moment, but it certainly wasn’t for Yuuri to step forward and cling to him like he was the only solid thing in the world. “Yeah. I am. I know.” Yuuri was blubbering into his hair. When Yuuri didn’t let go, Yuri returned the hug awkwardly, wondering how long Katsudon might hang on him this way. He didn’t know how to deal with this shit. Victor got all the good stuff, couldn’t he stop preening in front of cameras and deal with his boyfriend’s breakdown?

Yuri sighed heavily and let Yuuri’s strong chest take some of his weight. It wasn’t fair. Everything about his life and everyone in it pushed him to be an adult since he’d started winning competitions. He’d done it, too. He was good at his job. He took care of his family. And the one thing that made it sort of okay that Yuuri would never see him as Victor’s rival was that to Yuuri, he was a kid. Yuuri had never once forced him to be the strong one in anything between the two of them. Until now.

Fuck if he was going to take the worst of both worlds again. He pulled away roughly and grabbed Yuuri’s face in both his hands. “Asshole.” He growled. “Where’s your fucking spine?! You’re not pathetic. You’re the best.” He watched, amused, as Yuuri processed his words, so at odds with his hostile tone. “Do you fucking get it now, Katsudon?” He whispered and leaned forward to plant an unambiguous kiss right on Yuuri’s dumbstruck mouth. Katsudon’s lips had been parted a little in surprise, and Yuri took full advantage, trying to force in all the love and passion and rage he’d been holding onto for almost a year and a half now.

Yuuri didn’t exactly respond, but he didn’t exactly _not_ respond either. He made a choked little sound and relaxed fractionally into the kiss for a heart stopping moment before he pulled away. Yuri glared, aware of his own flush as he stared Yuuri down.

Yuuri blinked, stunned back to clarity, and licked his lips. “Yuratchka,” He breathed, touching his lips.

That brought all Yuri’s anger back to the fore and he bit out quietly. “Don’t fucking call me that. Not if you can’t mean it the way I want you to.” There was a long, pregnant stillness, then Yuuri reached out and gently traced Yuri’s burning cheek with a cool finger. Yuri thought maybe Katsudon would say it again, answer all his desires with a softly murmured endearment. Yuuri said nothing. The moment stretched on unbearably, but they both seemed helpless to break it.

“Ah,” came Victor’s bitingly cheerful voice from open door “I was just thinking how nice it is not to have the pressure of being the best. It’s so relaxing to know I’m even more replaceable than I thought.” And that was all it took. Yuuri dropped his hand casually, without even a shadow of hesitation, without any apparent guilt, and reached for Victor.

Yuri backed off, unwilling to be truly shoved out of the way. “Your passive aggressive bullshit can go fuck itself, geezer. You have nothing to worry about. It was my mistake.” And he ran, head down, dodging a few straggling reporters and turning quickly a few times to avoid pockets of lingering fans. By the time he calmed down enough to stop, he realized he was somewhere in the deserted maze of corridors beneath the arena.

//

Yuuri looked between the closed bathroom door and Victor’s face, plastered with a smile that didn’t touch his eyes, and felt conflicted. Victor was, well, he was _Victor_. Yuuri couldn’t leave him hurting. Never. But Victor was also an adult and should be able to hold his emotions together long enough for Yuuri to figure out what to do about the teen. Finally, at a loss, he wound his arm around Victor’s and pulled him down to one of the benches in the locker room. He probably wasn’t the best one to go after Yuri anyway. They’d have to talk, but maybe not yet.

“You’re mad.” Yuuri observed.

Victor looked right at him, blue eyes piercing as ever. “A little. I’m hurt, and so jealous I feel like my blood is on fire.”

Yuuri swallowed. That was worse, wasn’t it? “Of Yuri? He can’t even stand to be around me half the time, and then he goes and kisses me. I didn’t know he was going to do that. I was in the middle of a panic attack!” He doesn’t know why his voice has this desperate edge to it, what, exactly, he’s trying to convince Victor of.

“You didn’t look like you hated it. You let him.” Victor said, voice flat, now, all the carefully conscripted pleasantness drained away.

“I-“ Yuuri thought for a moment. He hadn’t had time to process what he himself thought about Yuri kissing him like that. “I was mostly too surprised to react much.” Yuuri felt like his words were all tumbling out of order, he hoped Victor heard the sincerity, even if he wasn’t totally making sense. “Even if you were all for it, I don’t know, it’s Yura, so of course he’s beautiful, but he’s so _young._ ” Victor didn’t seem to have much to say to that, and after several long beats of silence, Yuuri tipped Victor’s chin up with the tip of a finger and swept his bangs back so he could see his fiance’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Until about five minutes ago, I thought Yuri’s crush on you was mostly amusing.” Yuuri wanted to deny that to say that no, surely Yuri had no such feelings. Given recent events, though, he supposed there wasn’t much other explanation. Things began falling into place, then. Georgi’s weird coffee date, the party, the way Victor’s affection sometimes had an edge to it when Yuri was around.

“How long has this been going on?” Yuuri asked carefully. “Have I been oblivious again?”

Victor just shrugged. “It’s been obvious he had a crush on you for a while, but I’ve been wondering, ever since you told me he shared his grandpa’s pirozhki with you, if it might not be more than that. You might be his first love”

Yura, in love with him? Yuuri had no idea what the hell to do about that. “What do I do? I don’t want to hurt him. I don’t want to hurt you.”

Victor sighed, looking defeated. “I don’t want to hurt Yurio either.”

“Of course you don’t.”

“But you’re mine. He can have everything else. He can be Russia’s new national hero. He can break every record I’ve ever set-he will, eventually.” Victor gripped Yuuri’s shoulders. “But Yuuri, I need you.”

“You have me.” Yuuri gathered Victor against his chest, “Always. No matter what happens with anyone else.”

//

Somehow, long after Yuri was all cried out, Otabek found him. He looked annoyed until he saw Yuri’s expression. “I know how to hide a body.” He said, deadpan. “just tell me who’s been fucking with you.”

That makes Yuri smile for the first time since he realized Katsudon would be taking gold from Victor and taking his world record back from JJ, who had snatched it at Four Continents. “I’m not ready to order a hit yet.” He muttered. “I was the idiot who kissed him.”

“Ah. It’s Katsuki again.” Otabek slid down the drab cement wall to sit beside Yuri on the floor. “Well, at least now you know.”

“But I don’t. He kissed me back? Kind of?” Yuri said, “And then Victor butted in and I took off.”

“Victor’s going to be there.” Otabek said reasonably, “Whatever happens between you and Katsuki. If you’re going to go kissing him, you have to be alright with that.”

“I don’t know, Beka,” Yuri muttered, trying to flatten out his tangled hair. “I never thought I’d get far enough to have to think about it. I mean, when I think about it, it’s just me and him, but it’s not like I plotted it out or anything. It’s just a dream anyway, so what does it matter if that balding old man just evaporates off into the mist?”

“Well, you kind of kissed his fiancé.” Otabek gave a wry, half smile. “And I know you care about him, too. If he just let you have Yuuri, then what? Would you actually be okay with that anyway.”

“No.” Yuri muttered, a bit put out by Otabek’s calm rationality. “He needs Yuuri to be happy I think.”

“Do you?”

“No. I’m stronger than Victor.”

“You are stronger than anyone I’ve ever met.” Otabek said. Only Beka could say something like that without sounding like an idiot.

“That doesn’t help me figure out  what I’m supposed to do.”

Otabek just shrugged. “I don’t know. I like Katsuki, but I’ll kick his ass if he hurts you.”

Yuri stood up then, suddenly agitated. “Katsudon wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt me. It’s not his fault I’m in love with him and he’s in love with stupid Victor. Hell, even if there was no Victor, he probably wouldn’t want to ‘take advantage’ or whatever.” Yuri rolled his eyes. “He’s lame like that.”

“That’s not lame. He’s almost a decade older than you, Yura.”

“Not you, too.” Yuri growled. “I’m not a fucking child. Age of consent.”

“Yeah, I know.” Otabek said. “But ‘legal’ doesn’t mean that would be a good thing for you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m just a kid. I can’t have anything.” Yuri grumbled and stood. He wanted to storm off, but he didn’t actually know how to get back out to the main entrance. And this was Otabek, anyway. He probably knew that and would call him on it if he walked away.

“You have me.” Otabek said, and though his face was neutral as ever, there might have been a tightness to his voice. “Come on, I’ll show you the way out.”

//

“I guess I should go talk to him.” Yuuri said, tracing lines on Victor’s back with his fingertips. “Mmm. Yeah.” Victor said, sleepy and thoroughly worn out. “Wake me when you get back. I want to know what happens.”

He took the elevator up to Yura’s floor, but then did a full circuit around the hallway before steeling himself to knock. The door opened almost immediately, but Yuri was nowhere in sight. Instead, Otabek looked at him with such a bland expression, Yuuri was sure it must be full of disapproval. “I, um, I need to talk to Yura.”

“He’s showering.” Otabek said, his tone flat. “I don’t know if he wants to see you. Wait here.” Then he disappeared into the bathroom leaving behind a quickly dissipating cloud of steam where he’d opened the door. What was Yuuri even doing here? Maybe he should just go.

“I can just talk to him tomorrow-“ Yuuri started when Otabek returned, but he was cut off with a glare.

“Stay.” Otabek said, “He’ll be out in a minute.”

They sat in awkward silence for what felt like ages before Otabek finally said, very quietly, “This is more than a kid’s crush.”

“I know that.” Yuuri replied. “I don’t want him to be hurt. Neither does Victor.”

“That doesn’t mean you won’t hurt him.”

“Yeah. I know that, too.” Yuuri sighed, and he thought Otabek might say something else, but then Yuri came out of the bathroom in a set of tiger striped pajamas and he got up to leave.

“I’ll give you two some space.” Otabek said. “Yura, I’m around if you need me.”

Yuri gave him a little wave and then flopped down on the bed, drawing both legs up against his chest. Yuuri sat across from him in the chair. There was a long silence. Yuuri knew he was the one who had come here to talk, that he should speak first, but he had no idea how to say what he wanted to say.

“Are you just going to stare at me all night, Katsudon?” Yuri asked. He sounded tired.

“Yuratchka.” Yuuri said softly. Was that enough? Yura had asked him not to call him that if he couldn’t give him what he wanted. Would that at least signal that the door was open for there to be something between them.

“I told you not to call me that anymore if you can’t-“

“Yuratchka.” Yuuri said again. “Yuratchka. Why did you kiss me earlier?”

“What do you mean why?” Yuri spat. “You want me to tell you it was just because you were freaking out? I mean, it was, but not for the reason you probably think. It wasn’t for you, I just wanted to. So I did it. Practicing to be the next Victor effing Nikiforov again, I guess..”

“I guess you’ve felt that way for a while. That’s what Victor said, anyway.”

Yuri didn’t deny it, just flopped back on the bed and scrubbed his hands over his face.

“It’s okay.” Yuuri said, feeling beyond lame. “I don’t mind.” He’d thought for a long time about the way Yuri felt for him. It scared him, how much he could find it in himself to return the sentiment. And, yet, every time he’d tried to imagine having that kind of relationship with Yuri, every time he let his mind wander toward anything physical, some internal warning system made his stomach clench in a decidedly non-fluttery way, and his mind blanked everything out with _He’s sixteen._ And Yuuri had known he couldn’t really do it. “But I can’t return your feelings.”

“Because of Victor?” Yuri asked tremulously.

Yuuri sighed deeply and steeled himself to say what he needed to say. Yura wouldn’t like hearing it. “No. Victor and I are . . . not closed to the possibly of allowing more love into our lives.” He said. “Actually, that’s important for you to know. If we did this, it wouldn’t be just you. Victor is my partner. We could be something, but that place is taken. And there are others, sometimes.”

“Christophe, yeah, you said.” Yuuri was confused. He couldn’t remember saying that, but he supposed Yura might have overheard something. “Which I totally don’t get. He’s so . . . so . . . I don’t even know the word in English, but he’s too over the top for you, don’t you think?” The way Yura went red all the way to the tips of his ears.

“Why would you think that?” Yuuri asked, in an amused tone that he recognized as more like Victor than himself.

“You’re the one thinking about pork cutlet bowls when you skate Eros.” Yura rolled his eyes.

“I think I’m flattered that you think I could have ever broken a hundred points with that kind of attitude.” Yuuri laughed. “Besides, that side of me was always there. I just didn’t know what to do with it most of the time.” He still didn’t, not really, but it was getting better. He didn’t have to be drunk off his ass to channel that part of himself anymore. Not that it didn’t still help . . . That wasn’t the point though. If Yuuri had been far from understanding his own desires less than a year ago, the question alone proved Yura was years away from where even sober Yuuri had been back then. “Just wait until tomorrow, though. You might rethink your position.”

“Whatever.” Yura hissed. “You tell me no, and then you give all these qualifiers like I have a chance. If the answer is no, just tell me to fuck off so I can go about my life.” Ah. There it was, the old reliable anger. Yura sounded more like himself again.

“You’re going to hate me saying this, but Yuratchka, I know you think it’s not true, but you’re so young. I can’t return your feelings now. In five years?” He shrugged, “I don’t know. In ten, probably we could try. I’m not going to tell you to give up. You’re too stubborn for that to do anything but make you push harder. But it’s too long for you to wait for something that can never be more than semi-casual. And you’re sixteen, so . . . “ He trailed off, not really sure where he was going anymore. He’d said it all, more or less. He only hoped Yura understood.

After a long silence, Yuuri looked up from his hands, his fear of what he’d see on Yura’s face finally outpaced by his curiosity. The boy’s expression was, improbably, serene. He looked like he did when he skated agape. And if that weren’t shock enough, Yura’s next words were, “Thank you.” He smiled, warm and a little sad, “For taking me seriously. I get it, you wouldn’t be you if you didn’t care so fucking much.” Then the sadness was gone, replaced by a more familiar challenging glint in his eyes, “But this isn’t a stupid teenaged crush. I’m not going to pine after you the way _he_ did last year when you didn’t show. But don’t think that means I’m letting this go. If it takes me ten years to do it, I’ll make you mine. You never know, maybe you’ll even be tired of Victor by then. He can get really annoying.”

Yuuri didn’t think so, but there was no point in saying that now. “Alright then.” He smiled. “We’ll see what happens.” He stood, then placed a soft kiss on Yura’s forehead. Oh god, that was definitely the smell of Axe body spray. At least Yura hadn’t drowned himself in the stuff like that one kid at the Detroit rink had. Yeah. _Sixteen._ Yuuri shuddered. There was nothing on earth that could make him want to go back and relive his own teenage years. Nothing at all. He’d skate the goddamned gala piece at every event for a year if he could somehow buy himself a little bit of Victor’s selective memory just so he never had to consider the train wreck of awkwardness that had been high school. People thought he was bad _now_.

“Hey Katsudon!” Yura grabbed his arm as he began to walk away. “You better not get all awkward after this. Well, not more than you always are, anyway, or I’ll punch you in the face.”

Yuuri couldn’t help it. He laughed at that. “Goodnight, Yuratchka.”

\---------------------------------------

Yuuri and Victor did their pairs skate at the opening of the exhibition. The order of the performances had been adjusted so that Yuuri had time for his costume change, and Yuri couldn’t help but stare, still flushed from his own skate a few minutes prior, when Yuuri  returned from the locker room in what looked a great deal like real leather pants and a white shirt unbuttoned almost to his navel. Eros was one thing, but this looked like the kind of thing Christophe would wear. And then he remembered Yuuri’s comment from last night. It hadn’t seemed worth focusing on at the time, but now he had a terrible feeling. “You look like a gigolo.” He said.

Yuuri didn’t answer, only hung his head and covered his rapidly reddening face.

“You’re fantastic Yuuri,” Victor was practically cooing. “Between this and eros you’re definitely going to take over the title of sexiest skater. You’ll have at least three offers to model underwear in under a week. I guarantee it.”

“You’re saying that like it’s a good thing.” Yuuri grumbled.

“Isn’t it?”

Yuuri’s look could have peeled paint, but then it was almost time for him to skate, and Victor whispered something to him that seemed to change his attitude altogether.

“What is this?” Yuri asked, unable to look away, horrified at himself for being unable to take his eyes off of Katsudon as he skated to some hideously suggestive blues tune about churning butter. This was like the pole dancing at Sochi, except worse because Yuuri was sober and had a costume made which meant that this was pre-planned and there were no excuses. “Why?”

Victor just chuckled. “He lost a bet. The wager was that Chris could make his exhibition program for Worlds.”

“He seems . . . surprisingly into it.” Yuri said after watching for another long moment.

Victor shrugged, a gentle smile, one that seemed too serious for the nature of the performance, crinkled the corner of his eyes just a little. “Yuuri’s pretty dirty when he forgets to be shy. You already know this.”

“I’m sorry.” Yuri muttered, barely audible, but he could tell by the shift in Victor’s posture that he’d heard.

The open, fond expression on Victor’s face wasn’t what he expected. “It’s fine. Not kissing Yuuri Katsuki can be impossibly difficult.”

“You’re not mad?”

“Why should I be? He told you no.” Victor shrugged, returning his gaze to Yuuri’s performance. Yuri wondered if maybe Yuuri hadn’t told Victor everything he’d said to Yuri, but then Victor went on. “And years from now, maybe I won’t mind as much. You should probably try to be nice to me just in case.” He teased.

Yuri rolled his eyes at that, but he actually felt better. It wasn’t even that weird to stand here next to Victor, admiring Katsudon slink across the ice like liquid sex.

When Victor left to gather Yuuri off the ice and into his arms, Otabek materialized by Yuri’s side. “You didn’t call last night. Everything okay?”

Yuri nodded once. “I think it’s going to be fine. Thanks, Beka.” He bumped his side against Otabek’s gently.

“Of course.” Otabek gave a quick bob that suggested, but wasn’t quite, a bow, serious as always.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there we go. As much as I love Yuuri/Yuri, and I seriously appreciate those who write it, that approach didn’t feel right for this fic right now.   
> I wrote this before all the Welcome to the Madness stuff came out, so yeah . . . I guess Yuri more or less does a crazy sexy routine, too. . . oh well.
> 
> We’ll have some more Victuuri to wrap this one up. Maybe one or two more chapters. You will get more of Benefits sometime. I promise I haven’t abandoned it.
> 
> I'm working on the outline for a YOI victuuri magic/steampunk au if anyone is interested in being a beta, hit me up here or on tumblr with some links to your own work or stuff you've edited. 
> 
> P.S. for anyone who also read Hard Day's Night - that's not abandoned either, but it will be delayed until when ever YOI lets go of my brain.
> 
> Come find me on tumblr @VitaOrlando or @yoiramblings
> 
> Your comments inspire me more than you know, please keep them coming.


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